


Fox Hunt

by CleverKitsune



Series: Sanguinem et Corium [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Porn With Plot, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverKitsune/pseuds/CleverKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fix for Episode 11"Path of the Righteous"; Set after Foxglove</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my lovely beta readers Brink and Biomech. Without their edits this fic would be full of spelling errors and unnecessary spacing.
> 
> Thank also you to my very patient readers, enjoy kits ;3

It was amazing, how quickly a hospital could go from lock-down to sheer quiet. Vanessa was stable again, resting in a room nearby with Wilson, who would keep vigil until she woke up.

If she woke up.

Wesley paced. He had his suspicions about who was responsible. He couldn’t entirely blame them either. 

Wilson had been more absent of late, courting the  woman who now fought for her life in a hospital bed. His employer had transferred more and more of the business' daily responsibilities to Wesley.Who had been happy to take them, naturally.

But this absence had made them a target. Wilson Fisk had found happiness, a rare thing in this industry. A dangerous, distracting thing. 

He had hoped removing the Russians would earn them a little more time for this, whatever it was, to become a more manageable fascination.

Apparently, the others were tired of waiting.

And that was just something they would have to deal with. He had dismissed Leland and now it was only himself and Wilson’s men in the hallway. 

He had a phone call to make.

On the fourth ring, a light, faraway voice, “ _Hello?_ ” 

Wesley ‘s lips tilted into a smile, his voice becoming saccharine “Hello, Marlene? It's Wesley.”

“ _Oh, you’re the  new doctor, right?_ ”

“No, I work with your son.”

“ _Oh, I don’t believe we’ve meet then._ ”

“We've met before.”

“ _Oh,  oh! You must be James._ ”

“James Wesley, that's right.”

“ _Could you put Wilson on the phone please, Jamie dear?_ ”   
“Uh, no, he's indisposed at the moment, I'm sorry. Was there something I could help you with?” 

“ _Oh no Jamie, I just wanted to tell my son about the people who came to visit me the other day. The nicest people._ ”

“Wait, I'm sorry. Who came to visit you?”

“ _A couple, a man and a lovely young woman. You should have seen this girl Jamie, oh Wilson would have loved her. She was beautiful, blonde hair and big blue eyes. She came to ask me about my son as a boy. Her name was…her name was…Oh! She said her name was Miss Karen Paige_.”

Wesley’s breath caught in his throat. This was a problem.

There was no telling what Ms. Page now knew.

“ _Are you alright, James? Something the matter?_ ”   
“No, no, it's nothing.”

“ _Alright, well they just came with my piece of zuppa, you know they bring me a piece every night, so I have to go now. Tell Wilson I love him, and to call me back soon._ ”

“I'll see to it, Marlene.”

“ _I mean it, he should call his mother more often. I never get phone calls anymore… as soon as he’s free, not a minute more._ ”

“Yes, I'll have him call you as soon as he's free.”

“ _What a good boy, you tell that boy of mine to give you a raise James. You take care of yourself._ ”

“You, too.”

“ _Goodnight dear._ ”

“Goodnight.”

And just like that, his job became more difficult.


	2. Hunt

Wesley  walked briskly up to Francis. The man stood instantly at attention, awaiting orders. He was the man in charge of all of Fisk’s personal guards, and  one of the men who had been with them the longest. 

Wesley stood next to him, turning only his head. “I need your piece.”

The man started to pull out his gun, the metal glinting in the harsh fluorescents overhead. Wesley gave him a sharp look.

“Discreetly, _please_.”The  last word sounded more like an admonishment. He turned toward Francis  and the guard ducked his head, opening his suit to cover the shape of the gun as Wesley took it from him.

Wesley sighed. He had always had a soft spot for Francis, but subtlety had never been his forte.

Which was probably why he was the one with the gun, and definitely why Wesley had turned him down when the man had asked him out to dinner.

He sighed. “Keys.”

Francis furrowed his brow, glancing at the other men around them. “You want I should drive you?”

Wesley rolled his eyes. He could drive perfectly well. Had the man not  been there at the banquet? Wilson was under real threat, and Francis  wanted to drive  him , like some 16 year old going to prom?

“ No . I want as many men on him as possible at all times. No one goes in or out of that room without you checking them first, clear?”

Francis looked him over, probably wondering where he was going. He had to give the man some credit though, he was smart enough not to ask. 

“Yeah… what if he asks for you?”

Wesley glanced back at the man, his expression cold “Tell him I won't be long.”

It was time to pay a certain law firm a visit.


	3. Prey

The SUV idled on the curb just past Josie’s bar.

Wesley tapped his hands on the steering wheel, impatient. He hated being in areas like this for long periods of time, and calling Josie’s a dump would be charitable.

He watched the patrons coming and going. A biker with a cobra on his leather jacket. Three women with shoes that were very impractical. A man in a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a very drunk blond girl. A man in an untailored suit with an even more drunk young man.

And a woman  who was all alone, who was walking quickly and looking downward. Karen Paige.

Low, cool rage prickled his skin. If he had been a less sensible man, this would’ve been his opportunity. He would’ve  followed miss Page home as she walked alone in the dark. He would’ve snuck up on her, behind her before she even knew it. Maybe he would’ve drugged her, moved her somewhere secure and made his proposition directly. 

Maybe he would’ve just killed her.

Instead, he waited.

It took another half hour for his target to stumble out. Fisk’s second in command slipped out of the car as the lawyer reeled past a streetlight. 

The man in glasses slipped on a pair of black leather gloves.

Mr. Nelson sang softly to himself, the tune off-key. Wesley crossed the street, positioning himself 10  feet behind the man. He waited until they were out of the bright lights around the  entrance to  Josie’s . The street was empty except for a couple, preoccupied with the more pressing matter of each other’s mouths.

Wesley closed the distance between himself and Mr. Nelson.

“ You're so damaged girl, your mind's playing tricks on me. Gave you everything that i could give, but you just give me grief/you're so damaged girl. Oh it's a sickness. You're so damaged girl. How could i miss it?”

“Your pitch control could use a little work.”

The long-haired man turned to look for the voice, but Wesley was already upon him. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, the embrace covering the handkerchief that slipped over Foggy’s nose and mouth. The other man’s reflexes were dulled by alcohol. He clawed weakly at the fabric covering his face, clawed at the hand holding it to his mouth, but Wesley was stronger than he looked. 

It only took a minute before the long haired lawyer was slumping into Wesley’s arms, unresponsive. To a casual observer, the embrace would almost look tender.

The couple across the street broke apart for a second, turning to stare at Wesley and the suddenly limp form in his arms. The man glared at him suspiciously.

Wesley shrugged, smiling apologetically at the stranger. “I think it’s time for us to call it a night.”

The man chuckled and turned back to his partner. The woman smiled at Wesley knowingly. 

And without another word, Wesley dragged his bait back to the car.


	4. Hounds

Foggy gasped, the world spinning back full-tilt in a burst of light and pain.  He immediately shut his eyes. A vein on his forehead throbbed, and each beat of his heart felt like it would crack his head open like an egg. 

Carefully, he opened an eye.

“Oh good, I was worried that I had used too much. Chloroform is a little tricky when it’s mixed with alcohol. You should really watch how much you drink.”

“The…  Mitcher’s guy?”

The Global Industries rep sat across from him at a bare wooden table. They were somewhere made of concrete, the harsh fluorescent light overhead boring into his eyes. His tongue felt like sand.

Then he saw the glinting object in the rep’s hand and realized the other man was holding a gun.

Foggy let out a panicked noise, jerking backing in his chair. Fuck, was this guy going to shoot him? 

He made a move to stand, but his legs were  too heavy  and limp to bear his weight. He slumped back into the chair.

“Ah ah, you might not want to make a move just yet, for several reasons. First off, you’re probably still a little woozy from all the drugs.  Secondly, I’d really hate to have to use this so soon in the game.”

His vision was slowly clearing, so Foggy had almost no problem seeing the muzzle of the gun pointed at his face.

“Why…why am I here?”

“If you’re being philosophical, I’m afraid I can’t answer that one for you. In a more immediate sense, you’re here Mr. Nelson, because I need you to help me fix a problem.”

“A…problem? I don’t understand, the Cardenas case is…” He felt his throat constrict. Poor Mrs. Cardenas.

The well dressed man sighed. “This has nothing to do with your little crusade. No, this is about a bigger problem. Miss Page.”

Foggy’s body tensed, preparing him for a fight he had no hope of winning. “You leave Karen alone. She’s not involved with Union Allied Construction anymore and she’s been acquitted of all charges. ”

The rep rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I’d love to leave Miss Page alone. The problem is, your little pet project wouldn’t leave my employer alone, and now she’s made a grave mistake. She’s put my employer in a compromising situation, and if he knew the full extent of it, Karen Page would no longer be with us. That’s where you come in,Mr. Nelson.  You -” he jabbed his finger playfully in the direction of Foggy’s chest “are collateral.”

Foggy felt himself begin to shake, his throat constricting further… the idea of a man like this anywhere near Karen…He hated how his voice sounded shaky in his own ears. “D-don’t you fucking touch her.”

The other man slammed his free hand palm down on the table. Foggy flinched away, but the well dressed man  was once again a study in composure, smiling serenely down at him. Enjoying his fear.

“I won’t have to, so long as everyone plays their part. You, sitting here quietly, and The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,turning up to save his worthless  friend .”

Foggy felt the last word ring in his ears. This man knew. This dangerous man with a gun knew his blind best friend was a vigilante in his spare time.

His fear and anger at Matty for being so reckless seethed in his stomach.

“W-what the hell are you talking about? I’m not cool enough to hang out with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen! I’m a lawyer, I don’t do costumed freaks running around and punching bad guys. I do civil defense cases.”

The other man raised an eyebrow, his expression condescending. It was irritatingly attractive.

“It’s so cute how you defend them. Like you could even defend yourself. I know Matthew Murdock is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And, I know what kind of person he is, and that he would do  anything to protect his best friend.”

The rep chuckled. “The blind thing was a surprised though.”

 

The man in glasses got up, leaned against the chair, and taking a handkerchief out, began to polish the gun. With the suit and the leather gloves, he looked for all the world like a bond villain. Foggy felt a little queasy that his brain was giving this man that much credit.

“Matthew is going to convince your little secretary to stop, immediately. Stop going on outings with Mr. Ulrich. Stop playing private investigator. And, I cannot stress this one enough,  stop looking into Wilson Fisk. If he does, you live.”

He punctuated this last point by placing the gun down on the table, muzzle facing Foggy. 

He was too far away to grab it, and he didn’t want to bet his reflexes against this guy’s.

So he ran his mouth instead.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about with Matt, but it sounds like Karen’s got you guys running scared.”

The rep’s eyebrow shot upward, and that was probably a bad sign. He felt a stir of pride in his chest. Huh, Karen really did know something she shouldn’t. Good for her.

He wondered if Karen knew about Matt too.

The rep leaned forward, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “Oh don’t worry about my next move, Mr. Nelson. If I were you, I would worry very deeply about what  Mr. Murdock’s  next move is.”

He chuckled darkly. A shiver went up Foggy’s spine. “You yourself have made some pretty bad moves in the past, Mr. Nelson. You bribed a cop to take on the case of a woman who, for all intents and purposes, clearly murdered a coworker in cold blood in her own apartment. But she was  pretty and she swore she didn’t do it and she just seemed  so nice, so you took her on.”

The well dressed man paced forward, closing the distance between them. Foggy leaned back in his chair, away from the other man. Quick as lightning the man in glasses shot his hand out, grabbing the gun again and swinging it towards Foggy’s head. “But then , to the shock of everyone, you  won . You and Mr. Murdock proved the woman  innocent, and now you get to be the gallant knight you’ve always dreamt of being and offer an unemployed, friendless excon a job at your firm. “

The man smiled down at him, a picture of benevolence. Foggy was beginning to feel uneasy, the man’s confidence beginning to get to him. The man leaned in so close they could have kissed. The rep’s aftershave smelled expensive.

“But here’s where the fairytale ends, Mr. Nelson. Because Miss Page  isn’t a damsel in distress , she’s a  bloodhound , and all of her relentless sniffing is going to get you all in a lot of trouble  Foggy. I’d hate to see that happen, but as Ms. Page knows, accidents happen every day, to everyone…”

The rep’s eyes lit up.

“Take Mr. Murdock for example. He just seems so very accident prone, all those cuts and bruises of his…” The well dressed man stroked his glove along Foggy’s temple and down to his cheek, following the pattern of  the newest injuries to mar his friend’s  face. Foggy held his breath, unwilling to give this man the satisfaction of a reaction.

Foggy swallowed. “He won’t do it.”

The well-dressed man slide the gun slowly up  his temple, the movement surprisingly gentle.

He tapped the muzzle lightly against Foggy’s temple, making him flinch. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see when he finds us.”

Darkness engulfed the room.


	5. Cornered

Wesley pressed his gun to the other man’s temple, turning his head to search the darkness.

“Ah, right on time. How long have you been there, Mr. Murdock? I hope at least a little while. That way, you can  be a good boy and just leave right now, do as you were told, and I promise I won’t kill him.”

A voice, from the darkness to his left “Like you promised that you wouldn’t kill Mrs. Cardenas?”

Wesley willed his gun arm steady “I agreed she wouldn’t be harmed if she took the money. She didn’t take the money.”

He missed the look of horror slowly creeping onto Foggy’s face.

The voice, on his right this time,  “How many more people are going to have to die for Fisk’s perfect world?” He glimpsed movement by his left again.

Wesley swung the gun in the vigilante’s path. “As many as it takes”

“No!”

The man in glasses was knocked to the ground, gun clattering to the cement floor. It didn’t go off.

“Matt grab the gun!”

In retrospect, it had been pretty stupid not to restrain Mr. Nelson, and his inability to move under the long-haired lawyer’s weight only added insult to injury.

The gun glinted as the masked man picked it up off the floor. Wesley could just barely make out the outline of Matthew Murdock as the other man padded further into the darkness. The lights flickered back on.

He was sure if the Devil could see, it would’ve made for an interesting sight, Foggy’s chest heaving as he  pinned Fisk’s assistant to the ground with his body weight.

They owed him a new suit.

The  movement  of  Foggy’s ribcage heaving in and out on top of him made his skin crawl. No. It wouldn’t help to dwell on the last time he was in this position. He was still in control. 

“M-matt! SHIT! Um, I mean-“

“It’s alright, Foggy. He knows.”

“Fuck, right. H-how the fuck did you find me? I, last thing I remember, I was at  Josie ’s but you weren’t there, Karen said she couldn’t find you...”

“I was… following you. I’m sorry, I know it’s exactly what you didn’t want to hear but...I was worried.”

The vigilante’s voice grew hard. “I wasn’t expecting him . I followed the sound of the car for three blocks. I lost you at a busy intersection. I’m sorry I took so long.”

 

Wesley craned his neck to get a better look at the newcomer. From this angle Matthew towered above him. His mouth was set in a scowl.

He heard the safety click off on the gun.


	6. Bagged

“Foggy, get off him.” Wesley felt the other man still above him, uncertain. He squinted up at the newcomer, trying to gauge his next move. If only Matthew wasn’t wearing that damn mask…It was so hard to read someone without being able to see their full face, especially someone as quiet as the blind man. Foggy must have read something in the vigilante’s stance though, because suddenly the nervous lawyer was scrambling to his feet and Wesley could breathe a little easier. He wasn’t stupid though. Wesley stayed on the ground, eyes locked on the gun, waiting for Matthew’s next move.

“On your knees.”

It was probably a bad sign that the first thing the command inspired in Wesley wasn’t fear, but excitement. It was dangerous, but as Wesley shifted to his knees he felt the first stirrings of arousal curl in his belly like smoke. His cock twitched, interested. He really hoped Matt didn’t plan to use the gun.

It seemed very undignified to Wesley to die kneeling, with the beginnings of a hard on.

Now somewhat upright, he let his arms fall to his sides, palms faced upward and head tilted toward the ground to suggest submission.

“Look at me.”

Wesley kept his eyes fixed on the ground, a smile flitting across his lips. “I am.”

“Liar.” Cold metal slid under his chin, forcing his head up.

“Huh, and here I thought you were blind.”

Matthew was much closer now, but from this angle he still loomed over Wesley, The black mask covering his eyes reminding Wesley of nothing less than Themis and her scales. His mouth was set in a scowl. He looked beautiful, and Wesley couldn’t help the smirk that slid onto his face as he remembered the last time they had meet.

“Hello, Matthew.”

The crack of the gun was deafening.


	7. Promise

He had.. he had been _shot_ , Matthew had actually shot him. Wesley looked down at his chest, grimly assessing the damage. The bullet had entered…his shoulder, though the searing pain made it feel like the projectile had ripped through his chest. The wound, as far as he could tell, wasn’t immediately lethal. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the next shot.

“Jesus Christ Matt!”

Mr. Nelson stepped in front of him, blocking Wesley’s view of the gun.

The wound in his shoulder burned, the tension in the air becoming a palpable experience, a haze seeping through the hole in his shirt.

“Foggy, get out of the way.”

His defender was shaking. “Fuck no! Matt, this isn’t the guy I know, you don’t just go around killing people!” The lawyer’s voice faltered. “Even when you’re dressed like this, I’m pretty sure…”

 

Matthew lowered the gun but took a step forward. “This man’s responsible for Mrs. Cardenas’ death. He hired the junkie.”

The silence rang in the dingy warehouse. Wesley decided it was probably better if he didn’t fill it just yet.

He watched Mr. Nelson’s fingers comb back through his own hair. The nervous lawyer’s head drooped and he sighed. “I know Matt…I figured it out, before you came.  But, even though this guy’s a total SCUMBAG-“ He turned at this and looked directly at Wesley, the expression on his face reminiscent of Wilson’s before he had decapitated Anatoly with a car door- “He still deserves to be punished by the law. That’s what we do. We’re lawyers, we fight the bad guys with the law.”

Matthew was silent. The long-haired lawyer held out his hand. 

“C’mon Matty, give me the gun.”

His hand trembled.

Wesley could’ve laughed at the irony of it, the man he had kidnapped now begging for his life. Murdock was a study in tension, every line of his body hard. He felt the vigilante’s entire attention direct towards him, a hurricane of emotions. He could almost picture the man listening to his heartbeat, his breathing; judging whether James Wesley was too dangerous to keep alive.

And though he really wanted to live, Wesley was a realistic man. He was too dangerous.

Blood dripped down his shoulder.

The blind lawyer handed his friend the gun. Foggy took it gingerly in one hand, pointing it at the ground. The man sighed in relief, but his expression was dark again when he turned back toward Wesley.

“Now, what should we do with him?”

Wesley wondered if they would let him vote on this. He was in favor of them letting him go, so he could get back to business. 

And maybe check on Wilson.

“…He threatened Karen.”

Fisk’s assistant rolled his eyes. Here we go.

Mr. Murdock cracked his knuckles. “You really are a charmer, aren’t you Wesley?”

Wesley showed all of his teeth “I was just keeping Ms. Page’s best interests in mind. Unlike you Mr. Nelson. Who lets their drunk female friend walk home from   Josie’s alone, in the dark? Men can be so unkind.”

Watching the color drain from Foggy’s face was almost enough to distract him from his shoulder. Almost.

“Shit…Matt, have you heard from Karen tonight?”

The blind lawyer scowled, clearly reluctant to give anything away in front of  Fisk’s second in command. 

“He’s bluffing. Karen’s fine.” 

But the uncertainty in his voice was palpable.

Wesley snorted. Which was a little undignified, but really, he was in a lot of pain and for a man that lead a double life, Matthew’s acting was atrocious.

Mr. Nelson’s hand twitched around the gun. “We need to check on her.”

Matthew jerked his head towards Wesley. “Not with him.”

Foggy waved his arms, and the gun swinging in a careless arc. “We can’t just-“

Matthew grabbed his friend’s arm roughly. 

Wesley forced himself to breath again.

“Mr. Nelson for the love of  god , either watch where you swing a  loaded gun or give the gun back to Mr. Murdock and let him finish me off quickly at least. I’d really hate to die from a stray shot to the jaw or the stomach.”

The long-haired lawyer blanched, lowering his arms. “W-well, it would serve you right, you dick. Sorry Matt…I just, we can’t just sit here if Karen’s in trouble.”

Wesley watched the vigilante’s hands curl into fists.

“Take the gun, and go check on Karen. Get her to a safe place. I’ll deal with Wesley.”

Foggy clenched his fist against his hip. “I don’t want to leave you alone with him.”

Wesley privately agreed.

Murdock closed the distance between himself and his friend. Wesley couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Nelson shied away slightly, putting a little space back between himself and the blind lawyer. Matthew noticed too. 

His voice seemed a little gruffer than usual. “Look Foggy, I know we aren’t on the best terms right now, and I know you don’t trust me..but he threatened Karen. He threatened  you . He’s too dangerous.”

Foggy laughed, and Wesley cringed at the hysteria in the little noise. “So what are you going to do, punch him to death as soon as I leave?!”

Matt spread his palms. “Please Foggy, just trust me on this one thing, let me handle this. I promise I won’t kill him.”

Small comfort.

But apparently enough for the long-haired lawyer. Foggy sighed and threw another glance back at Wesley.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to Mrs. Cardenas. And if even a hair on Karen’s head is hurt when I find her, I’ll make Matt look like a  saint  for just trying to shoot you.”

Cute. Wesley smiled pleasantly. “It’s been a pleasure Mr. Nelson, until we meet again.” 

The other man gave him a poisonous look and headed toward the  exit , gun in his fist.

He wouldn’t underestimate Foggy Nelson a second time.

The metal door of the warehouse slammed shut, and they were alone.

The vigilante stood in front of him, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. He idly touched a pair of what looked to be night sticks in his belt. Wesley shifted on his knees. They were beginning to bother him.

“So, where does that leave us then?”


	8. Sinners

Matt felt like he was on fire, every inch of his body screaming to be used for one purpose. Bring the man who hurt Foggy to justice.

But there was a smaller, darker voice, drifting sinuously through his mind  and rubbing up against his thoughts. 

_You have this wicked man at your mercy. Hurt him._

_ Fuck him. _

The vigilante shook his head, backing away from the man on the floor in front of him. His lips curled into a snarl.

“I really…I really hate you, you know.”

The memories came surging back. Being drugged and strangled. Waking up tied to a bed. The teasing slide of cool steel against his skin. Gloved hands working him, penetrating him and making him cry out.

The call from the coroner, after Mrs. Cardenas hadn’t taken the money.

“I hate what you did to Mrs. Cardenas, I hate what you did to me, I hate that you work for _Fisk_ -“ he bent down quick as a snake and grabbed a fistful of Wesley’s collared shirt, his blood roaring in his own ears. 

“And I really hate that you kidnapped my best friend and threatened Karen. All I want to do right now is beat the shit out of you, I want you to come at me with a knife again so I have an excuse. I want to make sure you never hurt anyone  again .”

He heard the sound of Wesley’s lips parting with a sigh, pictured the sickly sweet smile that the other man must be wearing, “I know. You want to protect your friends, you want to protect this city…but you know that you don’t have enough evidence to put me away, I’m too careful. You can’t just let me go though..”

The he heard the other man’s lips pull back farther, all amusement seeping out of the dark voice “because if you do, I’m going to go after Mr. Nelson and Ms. Page, and I won’t stop until I get what I want. It’s quite the dilemma.” 

Their faces were inches apart. Matt felt the huff of the other man’s breath against his skin, heard Wesley’s heartbeat ticking slowly upward. Excitement. Arousal. Pain from the bullet wound.

He heard the sluggish drip of blood from the personal assistant’s shoulder. The other man would need a hospital soon.

He wasn’t sure he cared.

Wesley carried on, his tone  even and uncaring, as if he wasn’t slowly bleeding to death. “The way I see it, you have two options. If you want to stop me from getting to your friends -”Wesley’s breath puffed out in a small laugh, and Matt heard his lungs strain with the effort, already being overworked to compensate for the injury. “You’re going to have to either kill me, or  fuck me, and hope it buys them enough time to get somewhere safe.” 

Matt could smell the other man’s increasing arousal. It was poisonous, the scent already working itself through him, pulling unwilling reactions from his body. He wanted it. He wanted to sink his teeth into Wesley, make him cry out in pain and pleasure as he burned them both out, sinking all of his rage and pain into fucking the man below him.

“Unfortunately for you, it looks like your friend just took away the first option.” 

The way the man said  friend made Matt want to punch him in the face.

The small, dark voice in his head purred. _Give in. Hurt the man who hurt your friends, hurt you._

The vigilante let go of the assistant’s shirt, standing up too quickly. “I should just knock you out and leave you for Fisk’s men to find.”

A last ditch effort.

“You should, but you won’t.” Wesley’s tongue slid across his lips, and the sound made his cock twitch.

God help him, he wouldn’t.

“You want me. And, you want to hurt me, punish me for all I’ve done. So, why fight it?” He felt the air shift as Wesley reached out with a deliberate slowness, dragging just his fingertips along Matt’s thigh, his breath ghosting over the lawyer’s belt. His stomach curled in pleasure.

“Make me pay.”

He was truly damned.

Matt yanked the assistant  up by the front of his shirt. Wesley gasped and he heard the man’s heartbeat stutter, felt his body go slightly limp. The sudden movement on his shoulder clearly very painful.

He felt a little sick at how easily this made him smile.

Wesley  rabbit punched him in the jaw. Matt reeled back in surprise, pain blossoming across his face.

“That’s for shooting me.”

Matt growled and crashed their lips together like a man half-starved. The kiss was rough and  unyielding, all of the vigilante’s hurt and anger poured into a single act. Wesley stumbled from the intensity. The blind lawyer caught him,  braced the other man with his arms as he continued to kiss him, pressing against the man with the watch like he wanted to crush his chest. Wesley responded in kind, his teeth sinking into the lawyer’s lips, his gloved hands gripping Matt’s arms so tightly he was sure there would be bruises tomorrow. It hurt so much. It was so good.

They knocked into the table and Matt heard Wesley’s back meet the cold wood. Wesley went still.

Then the man with the watch redoubled his efforts, biting Matt’s lower lip until he drew blood, his hand sliding down to grip the lawyer’s thigh. Wesley’s heart slammed against his ribs, the smell of his arousal tainted with fear. The other man clearly disliked being beneath him, but Matt was too far gone to care. His cock was achingly hard, trapped against the tight fabric of his outfit. He ground his crotch against Wesley’s hips, desperate for more friction.

The assistant shoved his hand between them and wrenched at the collar of Matt’s shirt, the fabric cutting painfully into the sensitive skin of his neck.

He responded by hiking Wesley’s arms above his head.

“HA-” Wesley bared his teeth,  and Matt could feel the other man’s body shaking with the effort of muffling his own scream.

The reaction was intoxicating, pleasure buzzing through his skin at having the upper hand this time. He wanted more.

Matt began to pull Wesley’s gloves off.


	9. Skin

“W-what the hell do you think you’re doing.”

“You won’t need these tonight.”

Matthew had pinned his wrist with his left hand, pulling at Wesley’s right glove. The angle of his arm was excruciating. He grit his teeth, anger laced with pain simmering low in his chest at Matthew’s cockiness.

Wesley’s spine coiled like a spring,  and he grabbed Matthew’s right hand with his free hand. He..he didn’t enjoy other people removing his clothing, especially his gloves, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to fight the undrugged vigilante with a bullet in his shoulder.

He wouldn’t plead, though, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it hurt.

Murdock hesitated, placing his hand on the table above Wesley’s head. He took his other hand off Wesley’s wrist and brushed his gloved thumb across Wesley’s open, tingling palm. Wesley flinched involuntarily at the touch and Matthew’s lips curled. The expression was  one Wesley might have worn on any other day and seeing that smile on the vigilante’s face stoked the hazy lust that had settled in his stomach. And maybe it was narcissism, but he felt responsible for that look, and he suddenly needed to see the vigilante’s face.

He reached up and hooked his fingernails in the material at the back of Murdock’s head.

“The mask for the glove.”

He wasn’t asking.

The Devil dipped his head and the man in glasses wasted no time, yanking roughly at the knot that held the mask on. Evidently he caught some hair too because the blind lawyer hissed and grabbed the wrist of his still-gloved hand and pinned it to the table. Wesley jerked, his entire body going stiff as pain shot through his arm. Murdock  peeled his glove off unceremoniously and tossed it on the floor.

Wesley yanked at his hair again, relishing Matthew’s grunt of pain. As he slid the mask from the other man’s face though, the vigilante did something unexpected. He laced their fingers together, his gloved hand covering the personal assistant’s now bare one. The lawyer had pinned his wounded shoulder.

It disturbed Wesley more than if the man had slapped him. Murdock seemed to be intentionally causing him pain.

This was supposed to be a  bribe , a reward for not killing him and a way for the both of them to vent a little steam. He looked up into the unmasked vigilante’s face and saw his focus was directed at him, his head cocked slightly to the side. Studying him. Probably taking his pulse through his fingertips or something equally unsettling.

Frankly, it was starting to piss him off. 

Wesley tossed the other man’s mask onto the ground, gritting his teeth against  the pain that flared in his shoulder.

“So now what, are you just going to stare at me and hold my hand until Mr. Nelson and Ms. Page are safe?”

Matthew reached  up to his neck. Slowly, he undid Wesley’s tie with one hand and put it on the table next to them. “Oh, this bothers you?” He flexed his fingers in Wesley’s, once, for emphasis. Wesley hissed, digging his fingernails into Matthew’s glove. Nonplussed, the blind lawyer started unbuttoning his shirt one-handed.

Wesley’s stomach fluttered, churning with pain and a slow, creeping lust fueled by the vigilante’s unexpected cruelty. Damn him, he was intrigued by this darker version of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“No, really, I’d much rather gaze into each other’s eyes then fuck. Oh wait.”

Matthew frowned at the crude jibe and it was so satisfying to see the crease between his eyebrows. He let go of Wesley’s hand, and relief flooded through the assistant.

“Get on your stomach.”


	10. Control

Finally, down to the good stuff. Wesley smirked and with a bit of very careful adjustment ended up facing the table, his hands braced against the smooth top. He never minded bottoming, so long as he was in control. Matthew was apparently more eager to get started than he had let on, his hand pinning Wesley to the table by his good shoulder. 

It was a good thing the table was taking most of the weight. He was starting to feel a bit sluggish from the blood loss.

A hand slid up the front of Wesley’s collared shirt, brushing his suit jacket open. The vigilante’s breath hissed across the top of his ear. “You have lube in your pocket.” It wasn’t a question.

“I like to be prepared for..more interesting transactions.”

Murdock huffed out a breath that might’ve been a laugh in a different situation. His hand began to work at Wesley’s shirt, fumbling the buttons open with a little more force than was strictly necessary. 

Wesley sighed, drumming the table impatiently.

“ Please try not to ruin the suit Mr. Murdock, it cost more than your apartment.”

The vigilante’s chuckle against his ear sent a shiver down Wesley’s spine. “I think the bullet took care of that already.”

Damn. That was right. 

Wesley’s temper flared. This had been one of his favorite suits.

“Well then what the hell are you waiting for? Or would you rather we switched? I bet you’d love the feeling of my cock deep inside you again.” He smirked as he felt the vigilante’s hand curl into a fistful of his shirt. 

“I’d even use the lube this time.”

The rest of the buttons on his shirt were yanked open as  the vigilante’s other hand slide to Wesley’s hip and began to work on his belt buckle. Even through the material of their clothing he could feel the blind lawyer’s cock, half-hard as he pressed their hips together, grinding against Wesley with a torturous lack of friction as he undid the assistant’s  belt buckle and pulled off his jacket with the remains of his shirt. The jacket jerked his shoulder a little on its way off, and Wesley hissed, bucking back against Matthew as the wound stung and trailed fresh blood down his shoulder.

He knew he should be more upset about the wound reopening, but his thoughts felt..hazy. Unfocused.

That, and he was exceptionally turned on.

The lawyer groaned softly, and the small sound retasked Wesley away from the pain, had him rummaging through his discarded suit-jacket for the small bottle of lube he carrier with him. 

Murdock’s hand’s deftly worked his belt and his fly, the former clinking off and sliding to the floor with a thud. The zipper hissed open and he felt a  hot, cotton clad hand slide down the front of his boxer’s, cupping him gently through the underwear. Wesley groaned, felt himself leaning into the touch as the vigilante gently traced the outline of his cock through the thin material. He clutched the small bottle in his hand. 

He would normally be more embarrassed at how much noise he was making. Instead, he felt himself getting more impatient. He ground his cock into the vigilante’s gloved hand, enjoying the pleasant friction the cotton glove provided.He closed his eyes.

“Usually, other men are inside me by now.”

Matthew’s unoccupied hand tugged the personal assistant’s loosened slacks down his hips and they fell to the floor. He pressed his back flush against Wesley’s now bare skin and dipped his hand inside the hem of his boxers, gloved fingertips sliding along the shaft of his hardening cock. The vigilante mouthed at  the skin below his ear, and Wesley dug his nails into the table, fighting the urge to groan.

“Other men don’t fuck you after you’ve been shot.” He slid his fingertips under the personal assistant’s balls, cupping them gently, rolling them in his hand as he plucked the small bottle from Wesley’s grip. Wesley didn’t miss the teasing tone in the other man’s voice.

He rolled his eyes.

“‘Been shot’,Like you weren’t the one that shot me.” 

He reached into his own boxers, found Murdock’s hand and began to pull off the cotton glove in harsh tugs. He was tired of waiting.

The glove slide all the way off and he pulled it out, tossing it to the ground next to his own. 

Matthew’s hand tightened around his cock reflexively and Wesley felt his own nails digging little grooves into the table.

“ Finally .”

He bucked his hips into the lawyer’s, grinding against the thin material of the vigilante’s pants as he worked at his own boxers, sliding them down his thighs. Matthew moaned, a breathy, desperate little noise that made Wesley buck into the other man’s hand greedily.

It was a shame he hadn’t set up audio recording in this warehouse ahead of time.

Next time.

Murdock placed the small bottle on the table eye level with Wesley, and the personal assistant heard the sound of fabric being pulled off with teeth and then the soft slide of cotton hitting the ground. A newly bare hand appeared in Wesley’s view again and plucked the lube from in front of him. Wesley turned his head to  look back at the vigilante. 

His cheeks were flush, his expression frustratingly uncertain as he toyed with the cap of the bottle. Still fighting himself. Why did everything have to be a moral battle for these people? He was naked and achingly hard, and damn if he was going to let Murdock back out now.

Fisk’s second began to thrust into the other man’s hand, tilting his head back towards Matthew as he let out a small, calculated moan.

That was all the motivation needed. Wesley’s spine arched as the cool liquid slid down his ass. Calloused, slick fingers brushed across  his entrance. Wesley shoved his hips into the touch, teasing himself with  the vigilante’s fingers. Murdock groaned, and thrust two fingers in roughly, no longer able to contain himself. He bit Wesley’s neck,  working his fingers in and out of the personal assistant with a punishing slowness.

The slide of the other man’s fingers inside of him was too slow, too detached. Clearly, Matthew needed a little encouragement.

“…You know, it’s embarrassing to watch someone fight themselves so bitterly. Even if you are Catholic, you’re making a bigger deal out of sex than you need to.” Wesley was breathing heavily, fighting to maintain his façade as the quickened burn of the lawyer’s fingers worked him open and the now-slick hand found his cock.

The Devil’s hand tightened around his cock, his strokes turning slow and rough. “It’s not the sex. It’s you. I  hate that I want you.” He curled his fingers inside Wesley, his thrusts becoming more deliberate. “ You of all people, I hate that all I want to do is fuck the man that’s caused so many people so much  pain .” He thrust his fingers in so roughly that Wesley’s stomach bumped the table.

The heat in Wesley’s chest was smoldering. He gave a small, satisfied sigh and arched his back, inviting the vigilante to do  that again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

“Who else could it possibly be Murdock? Who else is covered in as much blood as you are?”

The vigilante’s hand slid off him. 

Wesley thought maybe he had been a little too honest, when he heard the rhythmic, wet sound of skin slicking skin.

Mmm, about time. The vigilante’s fingers slid out with a small pop and Wesley steadied himself against the table as the head of Matthew’s cock prodded his entrance. The blind lawyer’s hands wrapped around his hips.

Wesley forced himself to breath, to relax like he always did. The vigilante pushed inside him, penetrating him in deep, slow, thrusts. The slowness was overwhelming, not at all what he was used to. He felt too full, like he couldn’t possibly take anymore. He had to move. His own blood pounded in his ears and Wesley groaned, bucking his hips back against the other man. 

Matthew’s hand brushed down to his side and steadied him, prevented his hips from jerking. Wesley glanced up at him, irritated, unable to seek the brutal pace that he was accustomed to. Matthew, sensing his gaze, smirked down at him in a way that did nothing short of making Wesley want to punch him.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“In that case I’ve been a damn saint Murdock, damn you, just _move_.”

Unable to move his hips, Wesley gradually relaxed, and the slow burn of the vigilante thrusting in and out of him actually began to feel...  good, which was irritating. Matthew’s cock wasn’t unbearably thick, nor too long, and the rhythmic, tightly-controlled pace the other man set had him leaning into the vigilante’s hand on his hip, trying to seek more of the pleasant sensation. Huh, maybe he should’ve ridden Murdock the first time.

It was nothing like the frantic, desperate fucking he was used to; relief for powerful, lonely men in exchange for more powerful favors and information. Maybe that wasn’t terrible, though.

Wilson never liked when he arranged those meetings. 

He somehow doubted his employer would approve more of this. Even if he was enjoying it.

Which, he actually  was . The vigilante’s hand worked him in time with each thrust, stroking from base to tip, the vigilante’s thumb swiping across the head of his cock with every other stroke. Each stroke was pulling him closer and closer to the edge, the touches sending sparks of pleasure up his spine.

Wesley rolled his hips, changing the angle to take the lawyer deeper. Matthew’s moan sounded like a benediction.

Really, the only thing that could make this  scenario any better was a leash and collar.

And then the lawyer’s cock brushed a particular spot deep inside him and Wesley swore, jerking in Matthew’s grip. 

His breath felt loud in his ears.

“ Again .”

Matthew didn’t respond verbally, but he must have sensed that Wesley’s patience was at an end. He steadied Wesley’s hip with his free hand and thrust deeper, his hand tightening around the personal assistant’s cock. His thrust brushed Wesley’s prostate again and the assistant gasped, gripping the edge of the table tighter as a tremor of pleasure shot through him. Murdock’s breath came harsh and fast against his ear again. “Y-you’re going to lose you know. Fisk is going to go to jail for what he’s done.”

Wesley panted, his chuckle a bit too breathy, “God, do you ever turn off? Just shut up and finish me.”

The blind lawyer’s thrusts increased, his cock stroking that spot again and again. Matthew’s breathing became a breathy moan, his hand pumping Wesley’s cock erratically. He was getting close.

Wesley felt himself slipping too, his pulse roaring in his ears as he started to slip towards the edge. 

“Oh fuck, Wesley, I’m-”

But he didn’t get to finish his warning. Wesley bucked against him roughly, making the blind lawyer curse as his hips began to jerk erratically, his thrusts losing all rhythm as he pounded into the other man. Wesley felt the vigilante cumming inside him, warm and wet, and the sheer debauchery of it was so good . He felt his heart racing against his ribs. The idea of the picture they made, of the vigilante panting above him, spent and broken and still desperately stroking the cock of  a man he hated. 

It was too much.

Wesley  saw white, a thrum of pleasure arching up his spine as he released himself all over the hand that continued to stroke him in long teasing pulls. He wondered idly how he could make this a more regular thing once Wilson was in power.

And then he saw black.


	11. Savior

He woke up tied to a chair, surrounded by men in dark suits. Francis was leaning over him.

“Shit, it looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. Sir? Can you hear me, Sir?

He squinted into the too-bright lights of the warehouse. “Well, you are two inches from my face and _shouting_ , so next time I don’t respond to that just assume I’m dead.”

Francis sighed, too relieved to look appropriately chastened. 

A large, thick hand landed on the guard’s right shoulder and immediately the look of relief vanished.

“Thank you for finding him, Francis. However-” The hand on his shoulder tightened, and Francis’ expression twisted in pain.

“He is clearly INJURED. Call a DOCTOR! Or every injury he has received, you will receive  twenty fold .”

Wilson released his guard, who immediately busied himself with finding his phone and getting as far out of the reach of Wilson Fisk as possible.

Wilson was relieved, which was a good sign. He hadn’t even beaten Francis half to death for letting him go alone like Wesley had expected.

He must really look like shit.

Wilson crouched in front of him, concern wrinkling his forehead.

“How…Are you alright, Wesley?”

“I’ve certainly felt better-”guilt crossed Wilson’s face, the guilt of leaving his friend alone; all the bite of Wesley’s sarcasm evaporated. He gave his friend a crooked smirk, one that touched his eyes in a way that Wilson seemed to like “But I am happy to see you.”

Wilson nodded and moved around to the back of the chair, his large hands working at the slender cord that bound his assistant to the plain wooden chair.

Wilson’s voice behind his was surprisingly quiet. 

“I am relieved to find you alive, my friend. I was worried…But, you are injured, you have a bullet wound to your shoulder and your clothes are-” he hesitated more than normal over this last part, clearly uncomfortable. “Askew.”

It was then that Wesley noticed what a sloppy job Murdock had done of putting him back in his clothes. His temper flared. It didn’t matter that the man was blind, he had done it this sloppily on purpose. He wanted Wilson to find him like this, disheveled and unconscious. 

He would feel somewhat impressed if he weren’t so irritated.

“I’m fine, I just had an encounter with the masked man that didn’t go exactly as I planned.” He looked away, purposefully schooling his expression into the one he used with Wilson when he didn’t want to discuss something further.

Having freed him, Wilson came to the front of the chair, his expression dark. His employer had assumed what he had hoped he would assume. He wasn’t going to enlighten the man any further, much less admit that the encounter had been more than a little consensual.

“I will make him pay. I will tear him limb from limb. I will feed his entrails to dogs and mount his head on the city gates.”

Well that was..a little much. 

Still, it was touching. 

Wesley smiled.  “At least let me get first dibs.”

Wilson chuckled, his smile feral.

He should really find less dangerous pastimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :3


End file.
